I Can Access Eleven Percent of My Brain

I used to be like you guys, but I have a special ability now. A gift, some would say. A life beyond the world you know. You see, as a normal human, you can only access ten percent of your brain; whereas I, on the other hand, can access a full ELEVENPERCENT of my brain.

Yes, that’s right. Think about how your brain works, then add a tenth more and basically you have me. Boom. Blows your smaller mind, doesn’t it?

I wasn’t always like this. No, there was a time when I was just another person mixing up Veteran’s Day and Memorial Day or forgetting when my ex-girlfriend Sheena’s birthday was. On my best days I could only name two or three characters in Game of Thrones, and I could never remember more than half the names of the cast of Armageddon. That was the old me, before I signed up to be a human test subject for and the scientists began their experiments on me. Now, I can knock that sort of stuff out. Check it:

- Orb won the 2013 Kentucky Derby.

- “Another Night” was by Real McCoy.

- Bill Pullman played the president in Independence Day.

- Bruce Greenwood played the president in National Treasure 2, which is officially titled National Treasure: Book of Secrets.

- That kid who played Banshee was totally in Friday Night Lights.

- Joe Biden is vice president, and he’s from either Rhode Island, Maryland, or Delaware.

- The capital of Nevada is not Las Vegas.

I promise, I’m not googling this stuff; it just comes to me naturally. Imagine that whenever you used your brain, there were suddenly flashing lights and swirling images and symbols before the correct answer just appeared to you—all scored to an intense techno beat. That’s what happens to me every single time I think of something!

Take everyday things that your brainpower allows you no conscious control over: While you sit at a traffic light and wait mindlessly until the light turns green, I use my extra one percent of brainpower to see the light turning red for the cars crossing in front of me, so I already have my foot off the brake by the time my light turns green. You might think I’m using some sort of magical psychic power, but in reality I’m just interpreting cues and processing them with my entire extra tenth of brain access. Bonkers, right?

The scientists have made me a weapon beyond anyone’s wildest expectations—even their own. But what will I do with my abilities? Let them stick electrodes in my head in a lab as they observe me recall every password for every single online account I’ve ever registered? No, I don’t think so. Or should I just give myself up to the government and help them remember where the keys are for all their most advanced military vehicles so they can bomb people I’ve never met and have no personal problem with? No, sorry, that isn’t what I signed up for. I will not be their pawn—which is the name of all the little pieces in chess. (See what I just did there?)

But where will I go? Secret governmental agencies will be out to get me. Who can I turn to for help? Will my friends understand? Will Barry still let me come over and watch football games or use his mom’s pool if I didn’t always remember when reruns of HBO’s Real Sex are on? Would I let Ned drive me home when I’m drunk and crying over Sheena (April 24th, babe!), knowing that he is probably just using me to remember shortcuts through downtown or to know which FM station is playing live club mixes all night?

I mean, I want to use my brainpower for good. I’m just not sure society is ready for me. Maybe I’ll simply try to stay in the background, like with a cushy seven-figure job with a corner office at some private firm where I’ll remember people’s middle names for a living. That could work. Then I could afford my own cable TV and a pool even bigger than the one at Barry’s mom’s place. Maybe Sheena would take me back and we’d get hitched, have kids and a sweet pad, and I could live a quiet, content life of relative anonymity—just like the rest of you guys, only one tenth more.

I don’t know, having access to eleven percent of your brain sometimes provides more questions than it does answers. It’s also really loud. I don’t even like techno that much.